Stripped

This is the season, trees strippedclean and what was hidden nowis seen, the path that leads intothe woods, the littered leaves,the crooked walls that once markedfields where grass grew tall,remnants of a time long past,reminding me that nothing lasts.

Will death be like this, do you think,the day the breath does not return,will our true nature be revealed whenstripped of memory, heart, bone,sight, will we, too, open to the sky,and, like the forest, fill with light?